I saw Death, on a Dark Horse Riding,
High and haughty and proud.
Prancing and dancing he came to me,
Black hooves tapping the ground.

Grand mane unfurled like a midnight sea,
His dark lips flecked with foam.
I thought he had come in search of me
To whisk me away home.

But, alas, he only paused to laugh,
Flaunt disdain in my face.
Then he turned to point his crooked staff –
Took another in my place.

His bones rattling a merry sound,
Ribald with deathlike glee,
He swept up the other he had found
And turned his back on me.

I cried after his retreating form,
Entreating him to wait,
But my flesh insisted it was warm,
Denying twisted Fate.

Alone I wait and alone I stay,
He takes them one by one.
When he has carried them all away,
My waiting shall be done.

As the last one waiting on the hill
Of dirt above their graves,
I will stand there – quiet, small and still,
The last one that he saves.